"What do you mean?" Heinz asked, voice smooth but unreadable.
Florian furrowed his brows, thankful—so thankful—that Heinz couldn't see his face right now. Even he didn't know what kind of expression he was making.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
'What happened while I was out?''Why did I wake up in your room yesterday?''Why are you talking to me like this?'
And worse—
'The original Florian… he was pregnant before his execution… and he told you, didn't he?'
Why hadn't Heinz ever said anything?
It didn't make sense. Heinz remembered their past life. He had to. It was impossible for a man like him—so composed, so calculating—to forget something that crucial.
But Florian swallowed the questions. He wasn't ready for the answers. Not yet.
So instead, he quietly asked, "Why did… you help me, Your Majesty? Why are you being so—pardon me—strangely gentle with me?"
